


Caught Up Between the Both of You

by Tezzieh



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, I am just bullshitting this, It is even gay when it is in a threeway, M/M, Multi, OT3, What happened in Istanbull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezzieh/pseuds/Tezzieh
Summary: Gaby is swiftly falling in love with Ilya. Ilya is swiftly falling in love with Gaby. But Ilya is also very gay for Napoleon. Napoleon is very gay for Ilya.Aka the mission to Istanbul does not go as smoothly as Waverly had anticipated.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller
Kudos: 19





	1. Ch 1 - Another ring

“Why does he get to be her fiance this time?” Ilya asks. “Husband.” Waverly corrects. “Because you didn’t do the best job of it last time, now did you?” Napoleon retrotts while inspecting the heavy golden wedding band on his ring finger. “We’ll be renting a house, Peril, don’t worry. I won’t be inappropriate with her.” He turns his warm blue gaze to the Russian and smirks. “Not what I am worried about.” Ilya replies.  
“Boys, boys, please.” Gaby says firmly. “Don’t fight over me.” She slips a thin wedding band on her ring finger. Ilya is smug when she keeps on the tracker ring he has given her. “We are not fighting over you, honey. Or at least, I am not.” Napoleon replies. He checks his suitcase, making sure he has everything Waverly told him to pack. He looks at Ilya from under his long dark lashes. The Russian seems not to notice. He is far too focussed on Gaby. 

“You will have to hurry a bit, you have plane to catch to Istanbul.” Says Waverly. “Yes team, let’s go.” Napoleon says jovially. Gaby and Ilya follow Solo to the car. “Solo, the house keys.” Waverly calls. He throws a set of keys. Without turning, Napoleon catches them. Gaby sends him a slightly impressed look, but Ilya is not at all phased. He knows the trick, has done it a few times himself. It all has to do with sharp ears.

The car drives them to the airport, where they board a plane. 

Gaby sits by the window, pointing out things to Solo, who acts all the parts the loving jovial husband. Ilya has to really contain himself. He is so jealous. Usually he can address his jealousy rather well. But today he doesn’t quite know what it is about. It is definitely about Solo’s hand, shamelessly on Gaby’s thigh. But it is also about the way Solo smiles at her. Why can’t Solo smile that way to him?  
The plane takes off. Gaby, who has never been on a plane before, is a bit nervous. She cards her fingers with Solo and squeezes his hand. Napoleon makes soothing noises and caresses the back of her hand ever so sweetly. Ilya can’t stand it. 

During the flight Ilya tries to sleep. It is hard, he can’t take his eyes off of Napoleon and Gaby. Gaby is looking out of the window, amazed by the cloud rolling by and the land underneath them. Napoleon is indulgent and listen to every word she says, like it is the gospel of a fertility goddess. Ilya figures that that is how he gets so many women in bed. 

The landing makes Gaby nervous again. Solo lets her pinch his hand and is perfectly patient. His perfection annoys Ilya. Or so the Russian tells himself. Because what else can it be?  
They stroll over the airport. Napoleon and Gaby are walking hand in hand. Ilya follows behind them, trying his hardest not to look like he is chewing on lemons. “We ought to rent a car.” Gaby says to Solo. “What a lovely idea, honey.” Napoleon says warmly. The way he says the last word has Ilya’s ears burning. But he has no idea why.  
They head to the car rental. Solo picks out the most inconspicuous looking car he can find. Ilya, under the guise of not trusting the vehicle, checks it for bugs. Gaby and Solo pretend to be exasperated. Ilya finds two bugs, but decides to check the thing out more once they have it behind closed doors. 

The drive to their house take forty minutes. Even in the car they keep up pretences. Solo drives and both Gaby and Ilya judge him descent at it. Ilya even thinks Solo drives a car better than a moped.  
On the driveway, Gaby gets out to open the garage door. Of course not before having been handed the keys by Solo. “Get the suitcases, please.” Solo asks Ilya. Ilya quietly nods, gets out of the car and opens the trunk. He gets all the suitcases at once and carried them into the house.  
The garage door opens and Solo backs the car up. 

Ilya checks the house for bugs. He finds nothing. MI6 likely already swept the place. But better safe than sorry. 

Solo comes up from the garage. Gaby and Ilya are already seated in the living, which looks out on the garden. No one to see them, or hear them now. The act slips.  
“I will check the car for more bugs later.” Ilya says. “I first need something to eat.” Gaby says. “I hope Waverly stocked the fridge, I don’t fancy going for groceries.” Solo huffs. Gaby gets up and walks into the kitchen. She tears open the fridge and to her delight and relief it is chock full. “What do you boys wants for lunch?” She calls out. “Surprise us!” Solo yells back. 

They have lunch. 

Ilya sits beside Solo and Gaby sits on the other side to the table, opposite Solo. Everything is kept amicable. Until the mission files comes out. Ilya tenses again and Gaby is bouncing in her chair. Solo reads it out loud, calm and collected as ever.  
It is a simple mission, in theory. Obtain intel and some files, plants some bugs and trackers and duplicate some passwords. A very hands on job. “No big deal, right?” Solo asks. Ilya shakes his head. They both look at Gaby. She shakes her head as well.  
“I get the master bedroom.” Napoleon says, while bringing the dishes into the kitchen. “Why?” Ilya asks. “Because I am the husband.” Solo retrotts. “Please tell me I don’t have to sleep in the same bed as you.” Gaby says. Ilya smirks. “With all due respect, luv, but you are not my type. You’ll probably have more luck pleasing Peril here.” Napoleon chuckles. Ilya’s ears turn red as slices of tomato. Gaby can’t help a gale of giggles.  
“What are you insinuating, Cowboy?” Ilya asks sharply. “I am not insinuating anything Peril. I am just saying you want to fuck her. I have seen the looks you send her. That type of look has been sent my way for countless, I know it by now.” Napoleon walks over to the table, planting his hands on the wooden surface. “You are terrible.” Gaby says, but she sends Solo a wide smile. “Thank you.” Solo grins back at her. Ilya feels jealousy well up again. But is it the way Solo grins at Gaby or the way she smiles at him? Ilya doesn’t know.

“I’ll be clearing out suitcase. Try not to rip each other’s clothes off while I am upstairs.” Sending them both a wink, Solo takes his leave.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Ilya snarls. “Really?” Gaby frowns at him. “Oh you too, huh?” Ilya glowers at her. Gaby shakes her head. “You know what, I am going to unpack too.” She says. “See what sort of clothes Solo’s packed me.” She grabs her suitcase and heads up stairs. 

Ilya stays behind, staring at his hands. He has no idea how to feel. And that while he feels so much. He wants to go to Gaby and kiss her until she is out of breath. He wants to go to Solo and slam him into the bed, seeing the smug smirk fade from his face. He wants to unzip his slacks and slap the American with his cock.  
Instead he locks the front door, grabs his suitcase and goes upstairs as well. The doors to the master bedroom and the second bedroom are open. Gaby and Solo are conversing with each other, about their fake marriage. Gaby is dancing on her bed with a dress. Solo is sitting behind his desk, and he singing. Ilya hates it, because Napoleon’s singing is actually good. But Gaby is swinging to the tune of the American’s voice and Ilya hates that too. 

He stomps into the third bedroom. Solo and Gaby both look up. “Peril?” Solo calls out for him. Ilya throws his suitcase on the floor and flops on the bed. Napoleon crosses the hallway. He leans in the doorframe. “What is the matter?” He asks. Ilya glowers at him. Solo enters the room and closes the door. “You’re being pissier than usual, Peril.” He says. He saunters over to the window, peering out and leaning against the sill.  
He looks at Ilya, as he lays there on the bed. The Russian is not an unattractive man. Ilya sighs. “You are not supposed to be her husband.” He says sharply. Solo rolls his eyes. “Genuinely, Peril, she is all yours. Have at her, but we keep to the script.” He replies. Ilya sits upright. “I don’t like it when you touch her, I don’t like it when she looks up at you, I don’t like it when you compliment her, I don’t like it when you smile at her.” He hisses. “Oh come on, I am just being fr- Wait a minute. You don’t like it when I smile at her. My joy directed at her instead of at you.” Solo smirks smugly. Ilya grits his teeth. Of course it is not like that! “Fuck off.” He growls. “I’ll be out of your hair for now, but we need to talk about this.” Napoleon says. He leaves Ilya’s room, drawing the door shut behind him. 

Ilya hears Gaby and Solo talk to each other. Gaby laughs at a stupid joke Napoleon makes. Napoleon’s warm chuckle joins her laughter. Ilya want to yell to them to shut up. But that most certainly will bring Solo back into his room and the questions will never stop.

Napoleon cooks dinner. “Aren’t I supposed to cook, I am the wife.” Gaby titters. Napoleon chuckles and shakes his head. “Tell me true, how often have cooked for more people than yourself?” He asks. Gaby groans and gives him an annoyed look, which indicates he is right. “Exactly, now I know my way around a good meal by now, so you sit down, talk to Peril and let me do my husbandly duty.” Solo grins.  
Gaby sits at the table with Ilya. She places her hands over Ilya’s. She can feel that something is bothering the Russian. “Ilya, What is the matter?” She asks softly. Ilya looks up at her. There is a tightness in his face. Gaby recognises it, she knows this means something is plaguing his mind. “Nothing.” He replies. Gaby squeezes his hands. “Please tell me. Please talk to me, Ilya.” She whispers. Ilya shakes his head. 

Solo serves a rich smelling lasagne. “Don’t push him girl, he’ll come out with it, or his head will explode, which ever comes first.” He says. He sits down opposite Ilya. Gaby sits beside him. Ilya looks up at them both. How beautiful one, so handsome the other. He remembers their strength. He remembers how Gaby did not give up until he was on the floor of their hotel room. He remembers Napoleon dragging him out of the water. Their strength rouses something inside him. Something he doesn’t really want to adress.

Ilya tries to avoid them by going to bed after dinner. 

Solo and Gaby wash the dishes together. “What’s up with Ilya?” Gaby asks. “I am not sure if it is my place to tell.” Napoleon replies. “Well, it is not like he is going to do it himself.” Gay protests. Napoleon can’t really argue with that. “As true as that is, I don’t think it is my place to… Draw conclusions.” He says. “Oh come on, Solo.” Gaby pouts at him. Solo sighs.  
“I doubt that you have to guess that our Russian friend has feelings for you.” He says. Gaby shakes head. “No of course not.” She replies. “But I am here too. I am in the way, I am obnoxious and I have to be your husband for this mission.” Napoleon supplies. “Is he really that childish?” Gaby groans. “It would seem so.” Solo chuckles. “But he knows I have no feelings for you.” Gaby replies. There is a shrug from Solo’s shoulders. “He might in his heart of hearts, but he also knows what I can do.” He smirks. Gaby gives him a scandalized look. Napoleon chuckles. “Come now, you know what I did with Victoria Vinciguerra, you are not stupid.” He says. “Yeah we heard that.” Gaby says.  
Napoleon dries off his hands and hangs his apron away. “This is not going to be easy.” He says. Gaby turns bodily to him. “You know I would never, right.” She says. Napoleon furrows his brow. “Not what?” He asks. “Let you fuck me.” She answers. Napoleon throws his head in his neck, laughing loudly. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head Chop Shop, I’d like to keep you as much friend. I don’t fuck my friends.” He purrs. “Thanks, I guess.” Gaby says. She puts the plates into the cupboard and hangs up the dish towel.

Solo sits down on the sofa with a book. Gaby gives him a last look and goes upstairs as well. She is still bruised and tired.  
She lingers at Ilya’s closed door. She wants to enter. She wants to find that magic that lived between them in their hotel room in Rome. But she is also a bit afraid she will piss Ilya off. So instead she enters her own bedroom, more than ready for a good long night’s sleep.

Solo comes up much later. He has less bruises to nurse than Ilya and Gaby. The cut on his head is barely visible, even if it is just two days later. He’s always been quick to bounce back after heavy missions. Rome was a walk in the park for him. Probably for Ilya to, had Gaby not been there.  
He lingers in the hallway, listening to the sleeping sounds of the house. Ilya is snorting slightly. Gaby is silent. They are both sleeping soundly. Solo smiles to himself and finally retires to his own bedroom.  
He hates how empty his bed is. And he has no opportunity to meet new people, with his current cover being happily married. Maybe he should try Ilya on for size. With the correct stretching, that might not be too hard.

The following morning, Gaby wakes up last. This she knows because she can hear Napoleon singing along with the radio and Ilya shouting for him to shut up. She rolls her eyes and slips out of bed. She puts on her robe and goes downstairs.

Napoleon is making breakfast and Ilya does his best to stoically make something of the paper. But the paper is in Turkish and Ilya can only pretend to read for so long. Especially when Gaby strutts in, dressed only in her robes. Napoleon turns and whistles between his teeth. Ilya rises from his chair. But so quickly his chair tumbles to the floor.  
Napoleon comes over. He catches Ilya by the bicep. “Easy Peril.” He says. Ilya turns to him, his blue eyes freezing over. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” He hisses. “I don’t know what you think you are doing, but don’t draw unwanted attention. This might be in the private sphere, but we have windows.” Napoleon warns. Ilya’s fingers twitch. But he takes a deep breath. “Very good.” Napoleon smiles. “Count to ten, let me play my part. You can undo all that at night, when you are alone with her.” He says, so low only Ilya can hear.  
He lets Ilya’s arm go and walks up to Gaby. “Nice robes chop shop.” He kisses her cheek. Gaby’s eyes wander over to Ilya. She sees him tense. “Thanks, you too.” Gaby bats her lashes at Napoleon. Ilya taps his fingers on the edge of the table. Napoleon groans to himself. This mission is going to be harder than Waverly told them. They won’t just be doing their job, they will also establish themselves here. The hierarchy of the team will be decided in Istanbul. 

Gaby goes over to Ilya. “If you can’t do this, I will tell Waverly.” She says sharply. “You will be pulled from the mission and go back to Russia. Empty handed, might I add. I am sure your handler at the KGB won’t like that.” She looks up at him. Ilya looks down on her, his jaw clenched. “Listen to the woman, Peril.” Napoleon comes over as well. He places a hand on Gaby’s waist, so anyone who looks into the house might think this is a conversation between the newlyweds and their friend. “Sit down and decide for yourself, are you going back to Russia or are you going to stay by us, and play by the rules.” Solo says firmly.  
Ilya picks up his chair and sits back down. He sighs and decides he likes this version of Napoleon. No nonsense and in charge. Not that Ilya will let him be in charge the whole time, but it pleases him to see Solo can be firm. 

Solo serves breakfast. It’s baked eggs and tomatoes on toast. Both Gaby and Ilya wolf it down like they are starving. Solo eats slower, peering at the newspaper. “You read Turkish?” Ilya asks. “Enough to read the headlines.” Napoleon replies. “What do they say?” Ilya asks. If he is at all impressed by Napoleon’s knack for languages, he does not show it. “Some turmoil in local politics, financial issues, soccer.” Solo shrugs. “Nothing that matters to us.” He turns the page on the paper, trying to do his usual thing of detail picking. But his Turkish is not that good. It frustrates him a little bit.  
“Are there languages you don’t speak?” Ilya asks. “A lot, actually.” Napoleon says. “I just make sure I speak what I need to speak. The dominant languages of Europe, Latin, Ancient Greek and Mandarin.” He sends Ilya a shit eating grin. “And apparently Turkish.” Ilya retrotts. “There are plenty languages I have only a slight grasp on. Just enough to read the headlines and order a glass of something expensive.” Solo replies.  
“You can’t be all perfect.” Gaby says. “Of course I can.” Napoleon smirks at her. “You moan weird.” Ilya says snidely. “How do you know what I sound like when I moan?” Napoleon’s blue eyes turn on Ilya. Ilya smirks. “Your shoes were still bugged.” He says. “You listened to me having sex with Victoria?” Napoleon asks. There is a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I thought she was there to hurt you.” Ilya hisses. Napoleon opens his mouth to reply, but Gaby jumps up from her chair. “Hah, I knew you cared about him!” She yells triumphantly. 

Both men stare at the small German woman as if she is burning water. “Of course he cares about me.” Napoleon says. Ilya turns to him. “I did not want the mission to be jeopardised.” He grunts. Napoleon smirks at the Russian. “Now now Peril, no excuses, I have grown on you, already.” He purrs. Ilya narrows his eyes at the American. “Don’t stroke your ego, Cowboy.” He says. “No, I think Solo is right.” Gaby mixes herself in the conversation again. Ilya and Napoleon both turn to her once more.  
“Is that so, chop shop girl?” Ilya chuckles dryly. Gaby nods and sends him a smile. “Oh yeah you do. You went to help him, after he got me out of the car.” She says. Both men frown. “You are out cold.” Napoleon says. Gaby presses her lips into a thin line. “I was only just coming around again. I was barely there, but I could hear Napoleon tell you to help me instead.” She tells Ilya. “You were going to help him, you care.” She sends him a smile. Ilya feels his cheeks heat up. 

It is Gaby’s smile as well as what she says. Because he does care about Napoleon. He recalls seeing Solo on the heathland ground, mud on his face and blood running out of his hairline. He recalls how attractive he had found Napoleon in that moment.  
He turns his eyes to Napoleon. Solo smiles warmly at him. There is a fluster on Ilya’s cheeks, rising suddenly. Napoleon grins triumphantly. He gets up and puts his dishes in the sink. “I am going to get dressed. I will do the dishes afterwards.” He says. “I will got scope out the area.” Ilya stands as well. The two men nod at each other.  
“And what about me?” Gaby asks. “Get dressed, do the groceries, make the beds, be domestic.” Napoleon answers. 

Solo dresses in a light blue three piece suit, but hangs the jacket over his arm. He doesn’t want to get it wet washing the dishes. He rolls up his sleeves and puts on his trusty apron. 

Gaby comes down in a lacey sundress. Napoleon has to admit she looks really good. “Damn, I’ll be surprised if Peril can keep his hands off of you now.” He says. Gaby flusters. The pink blush is very comely on her. Napoleon sends her a wide grin. “Now come here, give me a kiss on the cheek and go about your day.” He cooes. Gaby obliges, playing the good wife and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” She says gently. “Have fun.” Solo calmly replies.

Gaby heads out. Solo stays behind, alone. 

He opens the newspaper again. He retrieved his small Turkish wordbook and begins to make something of the articles. He does what he calls reading between the lines, take note of details that seem minor, but that he can exploit. He has done this for a good long while now.

Ilya returns from his ‘stake out’ before Gaby is back. “What’d you find, Peril?” Napoleon asks, without looking up from his notes. “Little.” Ilya kicks off his shoes. “How you know it was me?” He sits on the other side of the table. “Your footsteps.” Napoleon replies. “Of course.” Ilya draws a sheet of Napoleon’s notes over to his side of the table. He turns it right side up and begins reading. It is encoded, but Solo is using a code he knows. “This code is sloppy, I can read it.” He says. “On purpose, I want you and Gaby to be able to read it and to be able to add to it. This code the CIA knows the KGB has cracked, which is exactly why I use it.” Napoleon replies. Ilya gives him a mildly impressed look. 

“Peril, I think we need to talk, man to man.” Napoleon looks up from the paper. Ilya puts down the note sheet. “About Gaby?” He asks. Napoleon nods calmly. “I need you to know that I have no feelings for her.” He says gently. “You don’t?” Ilya sounds genuinely surprised. “No, she is a lovely woman and I consider her a friend, but she is not my type. Way too feisty.” Napoleon replies. “I won’t fuck her, all I will do is keep up the good husband fascade for the outside world. What you do with her, as long as no one can see, is your business. But please, let me do my part in this mission.” He looks Ilya in the eye. Ilya looks back. He finds that Napoleon’s eyes are not only startlingly blue, but his left eye also has a brown fleck.  
Ilya’s heart sinks at the realisation. He finds Solo attractive, he is not supposed to find Solo attractive. Solo is a man. It goes against everything Ilya was raised with. But Napoleon is just so insufferably hot. The blue of his eyes becomes knowing. Ilya looks away. Napoleon has probably seen countless people look at him like that. He knows by now what that look means. It causes Ilya to fluster. 

Gaby comes back, finding the two men sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. She can practically taste the tension between them.


	2. Nights That Run Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension is poppin!

The following days they are in and out of the house. Gaby and Napoleon usually leave together. Ilya strikes out on his own more often than not.   
There is a tension in the house, which Ilya does his best to escape. He doesn’t always manage though.

Gaby changes out of her dress. It has gotten dirty during a tumble off a hill. Fortunately it is not torn. Ilya stands in the door frame. “What happened?” He asks. “Someone tries to drive us over.” Gaby says. “Did you get hurt?” Ilya comes into her room, taking three big steps, into her personal space as well. Gaby looks up at him. She is acutely aware she in her underwear. Tasteful, lacey underwear, that Napoleon picked out. She closes the distance between her body and Ilya’s, placing her hands on his chest. “I am fine, Solo kept me safe.” She says softly. “He better.” Ilya grunts.   
They look at each other. The electricity in the air is almost visible. Gaby clenches her first in the cloth of Ilya’s shirt. He gently puts his hands on her hips. She feels warm underneath his touch. He watches as her eyes flutter shut. Her long lashes graze the skin of her cheeks. Ilya closes the distance. Gaby moans in surprise as his lips crash into hers. Finally, at long last, he has kissed her.   
Gay kisses back all too hapilly. She notices that Ilya’s lips are clumsily but insistent. He hasn’t kissed anyone in a good while, but he really wants to let her know she is his. She clings to his shirt, her knuckles turning while. Ilya grips her hips so hard, he lifts her clean off of the ground. Gaby gasps and Ilya’s tongue slips over his lips. She wraps her legs around his hips and it is his turn to gasp. Gaby’s tongue invades his mouth.

“Honey, I’m home!” Napoleon calls out. Ilya and Gaby slowly break apart. 

“Cowboy!” Ilya puts Gaby down and rushes down the stairs. Gaby stays behind, absolutely baffled.   
Napoleon looks disheveled and he has a cut on his jaw. “Woah, you happy to see me Peril?” He is very surprised. Ilya does not reply, instead embracing the American. Napoleon returns the embrace, clapping Ilya on the back.   
Ilya pulls away minutely. “I was worried. Gaby said someone tried to drive you over.” He says. “That is quite correct. But I bugged their car, so now we can trace them.” Napoleon replies. “Very good.” Ilya smiles at him. 

Ilya cups Napoleon’s cheek. He peers down in those clear blue eyes, finding them full with mischief. But in brown fleck, in the upper half of Solo’s left eye, is warm, as if there is a flame behind it. Ilya’s heart skips a beat.   
Napoleon too closes his eyes. His lashes are dark and thicker than Gaby’s, Ilya notices. It is easier to close the distance between him and Solo. Solo is taller and stands firmer. The American is not surprised when Ilya kisses him. He only puts his hands on Ilya’s waist. The kiss is firm and to Ilya’s surprise, Napoleon allows him to lead it. Ilya rewards him by sucking softly on his lower lip. Napoleon moans lewdly.

Gaby erupts from her bedroom and spots Napoleon and Ilya in the hallway. 

She dashes downstairs, still in her underwear. “Wait, what is this?” She asks. Napoleon breaks away from Ilya, which is a surprise and a half to the Russian. He turns to Gaby. “Glad you got home safe.” He says. Gaby has no idea what to say back to him. He looks unharmed for the most time. But he also was just kissing the man she had kissed not three minutes prior.  
She crosses her arms under her chest. Ilya’s eyes go to her breasts almost at once. They are only covered by a thin layer of lace. Gaby’s bra does not have a metal wire for support, but all the same, her breasts are firm and perky. “Peril, her eyes are not over there.” Napoleon says. Ilya slowly turns to him. Napoleon sends him a radiant smile. 

“Now hold on!” Gaby yells. As much as she likes Napoleon reminding Ilya of his manners, and Ilya for forgetting them in the first place, she needs clarity. Both men turn to her. “Why were you two kissing?” She asks. Her eyes find Ilya’s. Ilya’s ears turn bright red.   
“Wait a moment… I have the feeling something is awry.” Napoleon says. “I think I was not supposed to be kissing you.” He looks up at Ilya. Ilya’s jaw tenses. Napoleon turns to Gaby. “What happened before I came in?” He asks her. “He kissed me, too.” Gaby says. Napoleon shakes his head and looks back at Ilya. “And here I thought I was the playboy, Peril.” He purrs. Ilya’s fluster spreads to his cheeks.   
“Now what?” Gaby asks. “Yes Peril, now what?” Napoleon asks. His voice betrays that he is enjoying the situation. Gaby prods her elbow into his side. “Should she kiss me now too?” Napoleon sends Ilya a radiant grin. “No!” Ilya barks. “Oh so you get to kiss us, but we don’t?” Gaby sounds very offended. Ilya’s eyes dark to her face. He knows he has been cornered. He does not know what to say. 

Napoleon put his arm around Gaby’s shoulders. “All I ask for is honesty.” He says. He looks down on Gaby. “I don’t know about you, pretty one, though.” He says. Gaby needs to ponder on it for a while.   
What Napoleon is asking her is not a simple thing. He is letting the verdict be hers. Is she going to demand Ilya make a choice between them? Or will she allow Ilya to have his cake and eat it too? It is up to her.   
Ilya gives her a tense look. Then his eyes dart to Napoleon. Solo shrugs lazily. He isn’t very bothered by the situation. He probably has been there before. Ilya and Gaby both don’t know what to say or do. They stand there, each to their own though. Gaby isn’t sure if she wants this. Yes, she wants to be with Ilya. But does she want Solo to be there as well?

“Should I leave you two to talk this out between yourselves. I am the third party after all.” Napoleon says. “No!” Ilya barks again. Napoleon furrows his brows. “Well, then we will just stay here, in silence.” He says.  
Gaby turns to Solo. “What would you do?” She asks. “I’d be delighted. He’s kissed me, finally he is kissing you. He’s coming out of that shell, at long last.” Solo replies. “So you wouldn’t mind…” Gaby mutters. “Of course not.” Napoleon replies. “Monogamy is not everyone’s cuppa tea.” He shrugs. That really does not help Gaby formulate a decision though.  
“Why won’t you say anything?” She asks Ilya pressingly. Ilya seems to chew on the inside of his cheek. “I think he is feeling some guilt over kissing me.” Napoleon says gently. Gaby opens her mouth to tell them that of course he should. But she lets her teeth rattle shut. She is not sure if she is right in saying that. It is her instinctive feeling, her possessiveness, that tells her he should. But there is also something else that she feels, part security and part arousal, mixing so strangely in the pit of her belly.   
She looks at Napoleon, realising the feeling of security stems from him. Solo will have her back, even if Ilya stubbornly keeps to his Russian ways. But the arousal also stems from the American. That realisation hits harder. 

“Kiss him again.” She orders. “Yes ma’am.” Napoleon purrs. He leaps into Ilya’s personal space bubble. Ilya grabs him by the tie and reels him in. Napoleon moans in surprise. Something warm and moist pops in Gaby’s underbelly, like a soap bubble in the sunshine.   
She watches Napoleon and Ilya kiss for a little. But she can’t stand by idly for long. She worms her way between Ilya and Solo. Their bodies are firm and hard and she really has to do her very best. Napoleon is the first to break away. He looks down on Gaby, who is facing him. “I want you to kiss me too.” She tells him.   
Napoleon seeks Ilya’s eyes. “Peril?” He whispers. Ilya sighs. He understands that if he wants to kiss Napoleon, Gaby should have that right as well. But his jealousy is a searing flame in the pit of his stomach. He sends Napoleon a grudging nod all the same.   
Napoleon gently draws Gaby a little closer. He leans down to her and ever so gently presses his lips against hers. He is very tender and keeps the kiss shallow. None of the desperation he communicated to Ilya, or Ilya to her. She finds that Napoleon is cautious. He does not want to cross any lines Ilya has set in his mind.   
Gaby is not as careful. She tangles her fingers in Napoleon’s hair and deepens the kiss. She is pleased when Napoleon can’t swallow a small surprised groan. Gaby finds she likes this and she presses even deeper into the kiss. This arches her back and little. Her beautiful round butt rubs against Ilya’s crotch. He swears under his breath, in Russian. His hands grip at her hips. 

Ilya starts to grind his crotch against Gaby’s petite round butt. She breaks the kiss to moan softly. Napoleon backs off. “I’ll leave you to it.” He says softly. Ilya and Gaby both give him a startled look. They mostly certainly do not expect Napoleon Solo, of all people, to back off now. Just when it is starting to get hot and heavy.   
“This is your moment, lovebirds, I don’t want to ruin it again.” Solo says softly. Ilya let’s go off of Gaby and reels Napoleon in for another heated kiss. It is the only way he knows how to show his gratitude to the American man. Napoleon groans darkly and snakes his arms around Ilya’s neck. 

Gaby sits on the bottom step of the stairs and watches the two men kiss. 

After a good while Ilya breaks away from Napoleon. He turns to Gaby. “This is okay?” He asks her. “Yes.” She nods. She stands up and presses herself against Ilya as well as Solo. Ilya puts one arm around her, crushing both Gaby and Solo against his torso.   
Gaby shivers slightly. She is only in her underwear still and gets a bit cold. “You should get dressed.” Napoleon says gently. “I probably should.” Gaby nods. She disentangles herself from the two men. She heads back up the stairs. Ilya gazes after her. Napoleon claps him on the shoulder. “No bad Peril, not bad.” He says.   
Solo heads upstairs too, leaving Ilya behind again. Ilya stares at the stairs for a while. Then he shakes his head, like a dog trying to get water out of his ears. He sighs and wanders into the living room.

Solo is the first to come downstairs again. 

He comes over to Ilya, who is gazing aimlessly out of the window. He laces his fingers with Ilya’s, looking into the back garden as well. Ilya startles and looks at Solo. Napoleon is in a two piece suit and the top buttons of his shirt are undone.   
Napoleon squeezes Ilya’s hand. Ilya heaves a soft sigh. “Is this what you want, too?” Solo asks. Ilya takes a moment to think. “Yes.” He then answers. Napoleon trails his thumb over a small scar on Ilya’s knuckle. He smiles warmly up at Ilya. Ilya smiles back gently.   
Solo leans into Ilya’s side. “And you?” Ilya asks. Napoleon chuckles softly to himself. “I am pretty sure I will enjoy the both of you, a lot. You more than miss Teller, but I am sure you can work with that.” He replies. Ilya humms a little in reply. He isn’t quite sure how he is to feel about Solo and Gaby getting intimate. His heart most certainly feels very possessive. 

Gaby comes down as well.

She stands on Ilya’s other side. She takes his other hand, stroking his knuckles as well. Ilya feels like he could melt. He turns his eyes from Solo to Gaby. Gaby is looking up at him. He leans down to place a soft kiss to her lips. 

Napoleon sits down at the kitchen table, working on the file. Ilya puts the tracker screen on the table as well. It is a bulky apparatus, but the table is sturdy. He fiddles with the thing for a good while, until he has managed to ascertain the location. “Cowboy.” He says to Napoleon. Solo gets up and walks around the table. He stands beside Ilya and reads off the location. “Tonight.” He says. Ilya nods. “Alone?” He asks. Napoleon shakes his head in reply. “You and I Peril.” He says.  
Gaby sits down beside Ilya. “Why can’t I come?” She asks. “Because they drove us over. They don’t know Peril yet.” Napoleon replies. “But you are going!” Gaby says. “Yes and I will stay in the car, as back up.” Solo retrotts. Gaby groans. “We will be careful.” Ilya says. “I still don’t like sitting idly by. And what if they see Solo?” Gaby objects. Ilya furrows his brows. He turns to Napoleon. “You stay home too.” He says. “Fuck no. Peril, if something happens to do you, I need to be able to pull you out of there.” Napoleon says. Ilya sighs. He knows Napoleon has a point. But then he shakes his head. “No, you stay. I will take bug.” He says. “You came save me if you hear me say the secret word.” He tells him. 

The secret word is, of course, Cowboy.

Ilya leaves when darkness has taken the city. Napoleon and Gaby stay behind, both nervous. Gaby chews her nails and Napoleon paces. They hear nothing from Ilya. The hour grows later and later.  
Napoleon places a hand on Gaby’s shoulder. “You should go to bed, honey.” He says gently. Gaby shakes her head. “I am not sleeping a wink until he is back.” She hisses. “Me either.” Napoleon agrees.

Ilya returns at five in the morning, stumbling in. There is blood trailing down his face, but also a triumphant smirk on his lips. “Planted the bugs.” He says. Napoleon and Gaby rush over to him. “Ilya, are you alright?” Gaby asks, breathlessly. Ilya puts one arm around her waist. He reels her in for a kiss.   
“Is not my blood.” He says, his lips not an inch away from hers. “What happened?” Napoleon asks. Ilya’s free arm curls around him. “Ran into a guard on my way out. He followed me. I took him out.” Ilya replies. “I assume you were careful.” Napoleon says.   
The American noses his face against Ilya’s jaw. He does not wait for an answer. Ilya presses both Gaby and Ilya against his torso. “You’re safe, Ilya.” Gaby whispers. She tightens her hands into his sweater. Napoleon gently puts his hand on his back, keeping it still.   
Slowly Ilya relaxes.


End file.
